Confession
by chocolatechipbunnies
Summary: The Winchesters have not heard from Castiel in a long time. Sam convinces Dean to try going to confession to take his mind off of things, but he quickly realizes that there is something familiar about the priest. Takes place during season 5; an RP in story format that I did with a friend (which explains some of the recapping from each character's perspective that happens).


Dean yanked the keys out of the ignition distractedly, slamming the door of his beloved black Impala shut. He hesitated, leaning on the car and shaking his head with irritation. "This is stupid. We should just go," he muttered, throwing Sam the keys.

"Confession is not stupid, Dean." His brother rolled his eyes. "I think it'll do you some good."

"Yeah, well I think a cheeseburger would do me some good too, so why aren't our asses sittin' at a Burger King?" Dean snapped back, eying the church's dull rose window reluctantly.

Sam's lips tightened. "You know what I mean. With how you've been recently...all the Armageddon and saving the world crap is taking a toll, not to mention Cas disappearing..."

"Cas has nothing to do with this." Dean snapped suddenly, his lip twitching in a snarl. "Whatever, fine, I'll go, okay. Just...pick me up in an hour."

As the familiar low rumble of the Impala faded behind him, Dean sucked in his breath and walked into the church. It was quiet, tinted a deep rosy color from the light streaming through the stained glass. He looked around grumpily, not seeing or hearing anyone. He stood for a moment, then turned around, heading for the door. "This is stupid," he growled again.

When Castiel was doing the work of the Lord, he was shadowing the footsteps of the Winchesters. He tended to provide clarity for them when there was none. Now, with Armageddon looming on the horizon, it seemed that Dean was in need of a little extra insight. True, the angel did have the unnerving tendency to show up when Dean least expected it. Sometimes, he manifested himself in situations where the other man was not aware of his presence. It was the habit of mortal to miss things they so dearly wanted when they were close at hand.

He'd seen the Impala weaving through the streets, could hear the brothers speaking tensely about the supposed end of the world. 'Confession,' he thought suddenly, 'that's a very decent outlet.' Castiel did his best to make sure the priest at St. Benedict's was fast asleep- and would stay that way for quite some time.

He made his way into the screened-in box of the confessional, uncertain of what he would hear and how he could respond. It had been a long time since he'd received the Sacrament of Penance in the body of Jimmy Novak. He cleared his throat, his usually gravelly tones exchanged for less familiar mellow ones.

Dean stopped suddenly, hearing the sound of another person in the church echo off the walls. He looked around tensely at first; sudden noises usually signaled bad news based on his experiences. He furrowed his brow and slowly crept through a pew, listening intently as his hand curled around a pistol in his leather jacket.

Then he laid his eyes upon the confessional booth, a dark figure inside.

Exhaling in exasperation, he strode over to the booth. "Nice and subtle's your style, eh Padre?" he muttered quietly. The figure did not move or respond, and Dean rolled his eyes. "I was uh, hoping you could confess me up or whatever you do," he sighed, sinking into the chair inside the booth with a groan. "You know, like my holy shrink." His eyebrows shot up above half closed eyelids, but he realized the screen was separating himself from the priest and glanced back to his hands. "You ready? I got some stories."

Castiel smirked to himself. Of course Dean wouldn't understand the process of confession. He didn't bother to rebuke him. He simply replied, "Very well, my son. Let me begin." His voice sounded younger and gentler than the one Dean had undoubtedly been expecting. He made the sign of the Trinity. As was the tradition, he read a short Bible verse.

"He looketh upon men, and if any say, I have sinned, and perverted that which was right, and it profited me not; He will deliver his soul from going into the pit, and his life shall see the light." Regardless of whatever vessel he occupied, Castiel could always establish weight with the word of God. It was nearly theatrical.

"You may speak," said Castiel the priest.

Dean sniffed, lazily scratching his ear with his hand. "Well, um, geez. Where do I start, you know? Mmmm...oh. Last week," he started. "Last week I, uh, I got so drunk that I didn't know where I was when I woke up, and there were three women with me." This definitely did not happen last week or anytime in Dean's recent memory, but he figured it had to have happened to him at some point. He bit his lip, wondering if the priest could tell he was half-assing this confessional. He wasn't about to spew his crazy problems to some complete stranger. "Oh," he said suddenly. "I also punched my brother last week."

Castiel eased into the sound of Dean's voice. Perfectionist though he was, he couldn't regret his demotion from Heaven when it was due solely to his relationship with this man. Dean awoke the humanity in him—what little was left of it, anyway.

The angel did his best to play his priestly part. He made a conciliatory noise in the back of his throat. He could see Dean getting Sam square in the face, yes. "I see. Is there anything else you wish to confess, child?" He asked knowingly.

The corner of Dean's lip twitched, and he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Uhh, nope, I think that'll do it for me, Padre. I just can't stay away from the women and the drinks..." His voice faltered, blowing his cover. There was something he really wanted to tell someone, anyone, but he felt this was something no one could understand. Hell, he didn't even know if he could fully comprehend what he was feeling.

"Well actually, I uh..." He blinked rapidly, inhaling raggedly. Images flashed before his closed eyelids, soft brown hair, piercing blue eyes. "Dammit. Er, sorry. I didn't mean to-" He licked his lips tensely, suddenly sputtering, "I have this friend, right? And, well, we've been through a lot together." The slightest hint of a grin crossed his face. "You know, in all of this mess, when it felt like I was losing everything...I found him, Cas. He came to me when everything else was..." His words caught in his throat, and he blinked again, shaking his head slowly. "But...he's gone now. I thought it would be different, you know? I thought out everything, I could count on him..." His face twitched, lips trembled, eyes crinkled. "I don't know what it is, I lose people, I go on. It happens all the time, I should be used to it, you know? But...I just...I can't let him go, Father. I miss him."

Castiel suppressed a chuckle. "Everything is to be taken in moderation, my son," he replied stoutly. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. They were oddly sweaty, as though he was expecting something. "Practice self-control, a little at a time, so that you do not fall into gluttony and the insatiable lust that follows." He couldn't help but let a little bit of Jimmy's voice creep through. He cleared his throat, dismissing it as a small cough.

The angel listened quietly as Dean slowly opened up. He recognized the halting, awkward phrases. He was getting a little choked up. How odd. Castiel felt his face heat up as the man spoke of him. He could practically feel Dean's thoughts. He himself could scarcely push the few memories of Dean's touch away. His rough palms, his unruly stubble, that flawless smile. He could feel his composure slipping as he worked to reply. "It is natural to hold memories dear to you. One can dwell on such things fondly. There's no sin in that." He paused.

"Do not let your wanting obscure the Lord's will for you," he continued. He cleared his throat again. 'Cooperate with me, Jimmy,' he thought hopelessly. "Often, the things we want most are close at hand, Dean."

Damn it.

Dean froze suddenly, his eyes narrowing. "You know, I don't think I ever told you my name, 'Father.'" His hand instinctively went to the gun in his jacket. This could be a set up...a demon perhaps? Trying to glean some information off him, maybe? He cocked his gun and held it to the screen. "Change of plans, Padre, you got something to confess to me? Like who you really are, for example?" he growled, his eyes cold.

Castiel mentally pummeled himself. He felt Jimmy's stomach turn to ice inside him. His flesh grew uncomfortably clammy. 'Vessels,' he thought angrily, 'so rebellious.' He had no choice but to drop the ruse and make himself known to Dean again, after all these months.

"I suppose you didn't," he admitted, laughing quietly. The downy texture of the priestly voice disappeared as Jimmy's harsh one returned. He stood and stepped through the dividing wall of the confessional as if it were no more than smoke. He looked Dean in the face for the first time in what seemed like millennia. "I confess, I've been looking for a way to comfort you for ages, Dean."

Dean's eyes widened in disbelief. He couldn't control his trembling lips. "...Cas?" he said, his voice shaking as well. He lowered his gun and concealed it back in his jacket, not taking his eyes off the angel. "Is that really you?" He shook his head slowly, trying to remove the lump from his throat.

Cas was exactly the same, he hadn't changed, he never changed- professionally unkempt, his hair almost neat, his tie almost straightened, like he was almost human. Dean raised his hand as if to touch him, but he stopped, unsure of what his intentions were. He felt his chest heaving as he attempted to keep his breathing quiet.

Castiel quirked his lips up at the corners. "It's me." What little of him was left. Constant re-education from the archangels had left him weary. But his time with the Winchesters could not be burned from his mind so easily. He could pretend, but he would return every time.

He felt the sudden urge to hold Dean and not let go. He noticed Dean's hand as it hovered near him. Before it dropped to his side, the angel grabbed it in both of his. "I... I've missed you." The humanness in him became very obvious. He wanted to tell Dean how empty heaven was, how unforgiving he'd begun to find the company of other angels. He knew that his face probably said it all.

Dean's throat closed and he swallowed hard. There was something about the angel's eyes that could see straight through him and that could reflect all of his pain. It was at times like these he was lost for words. "Uh..." he cleared his throat. "Yeah. I've...I missed you, too. But I guess you already knew that."

His normally stoic face flushed, recalling his unintentional confession to Cas. He had heard everything...there was no trying to cover it up now. He pursed his lips and gripped Cas's hand tighter, his other hand holding his forearm. "Cas, I..." he choked. "It's been hell without you, man. Well, you know what I mean." He looked up again, meeting the angel's eyes above him. He sighed then, slouching forward so that his head rested against Cas's stomach. "Why did you leave me?" he said, his eyes shut closed.

The angel chuckled. He lifted one of his hands and ran his fingers through Dean's hair. "I knew, and I wanted you to begin looking forward." He exhaled, his abdomen shifting against the other man's head. "I have faith in you."

Dean's words resonated inside his head. So it was true. Perhaps his occasional jaunts down to Earth hadn't been so worthless after all. He'd hoped so. He'd spent what felt like an age swimming through his memories. Heaven was eternal. "I know, Dean. I know." He held the man close. His heart hammered in his chest. He looked into the deep hazel of Dean's eyes and guided him to his feet. "My departure was not... my choice." He felt his throat shudder closed. He wrapped his arms around the other man. Hugging had never really been his strong suit.

Dean made a sour face suddenly as he felt Cas's arms embrace him. Hugging had never really been his strong suit, unless it was someone dying on him or some other mess. His arms hovered, then rested around the angel's back, his hands smoothing out the wrinkles in the angel's trench coat. He rested his lips in Cas's shoulder, looking to the church but not seeing anything. He exhaled tiredly, like he had been holding his breath for a long time.

"I figured they might've taken you since your buddies are such dicks," Dean said, trying to hide the anger in his voice. He knew that he had to hide from the angels for his own safety, but he also knew that he wanted to beat the crap out of them. He felt the angel's heart thumping against his own, their sounds entangling.

He suddenly smirked. "You have faith in me. I missed that, someone believing in me." His grip tightened, bringing Cas even closer to him. He shut his eyes tight. "Everyone telling you you can't do it, it wears you down after a while, you know?" His voice cracked. "And...and I don't know what's been going on lately, but..." He pulled away slowly, inches away from Cas's face. He gazed at him, a strange expression on his face. "But...I know I need you. It's not just...it's not like...how I've felt about anyone else in my life. Ever."

Castiel let his fingertips roam over the subtle warp and weft of Dean's muscled back. He was tense. It was as though everything within him had been protesting his continued existence. As the man exhaled, his body relaxed. The angel shivered at the strangely pleasant sensations that Dean's touch always brought him. He inhaled a lungful of air.

"Careful," he warned as Dean spoke of ill of the other angels. He couldn't say he disagreed. "I've bought myself a bit of time. We don't want to turn their eyes toward me." He nuzzled into the crown of Dean's head. His hair smelled faintly of some musky hair product and sweat. He smelled like Dean. Castiel resisted the sudden wave of exhaustion that weighed down on him. He couldn't be tired, but he could certainly be inert.

"Of course I have faith in you, Dean," he replied curtly. As if he would do otherwise. He leaned forward into Dean's embrace so that they were almost one. "I understand." He pulled back to survey Dean's expression. He bit his lip, studying the harsh lines of his face. He reminded Castiel of Michelangelo's David, sometimes. "I... I cannot adequately describe feelings, Dean. But the time I take away from you is spent wishing to be back... with..." He trailed off, feeling incredibly silly.

The corner of Dean's lips twitched into a smile as he watched Cas struggle for the right words. It was his longing to fit in as a human that made his awkwardness so endearing, how hard he tried to be so imperfect. He watched his stormy eyes search his face, his full lips parted ever so slightly.

"Hey, Cas?" Their faces were not even inches apart, perhaps hairs now. He could feel the angel's breath on his face. Goosebumps trailed down his spine. "Remember that thing we talked about, about personal space?" He watched the other man nod in confusion. "Well, forget about it." His heart leaping from his chest, he closed the small distance between them, their lips locking.

Castiel wasn't sure what the appropriate protocol for humans was, in this situation. He couldn't deny that there was some kind of magnetism dragging them together. He fisted his hands in the rough fabric of Dean's coat. He would wait for him to make the first move.

And make it, he did. The angel felt the light in him well up to the point of bursting. He steadied his mind and matched Dean's kiss attentively. He searched through Jimmy's memories for one to match the situation. 'Ah.' He leaned in and deepened the connection between them. His hands were tracing shapes beneath Dean's coat and into the material of his worn flannel. He surfaced slowly. He wasn't aware how hot and out of breath he'd become. "Dean..."

Dean shuddered beneath the leather shell of his jacket as he felt Cas's hands glide over his aching muscles. A tiny part of him laughed internally; all his life he had chased and banged countless women, but none of them meant more to him than this man before him...

As their lips parted, Dean inhaled shakily. Usually he was more collected than this, more in control. His heartbeat quickened when the angel uttered his name. He wondered if he was going to have to go cry into a bucket of Hagen-Das and go shoe shopping after this, but he shut that thought out very quickly. He studied Cas's shoulders, heaving up and down steadily. "Cas..." he started, his hand slowly sliding up the side of the angel's face. "Shut up." He again pushed his lips against the other man's, relishing the softness of his lips and the quiet muffled groan from his mouth.

The fleeting prickle created by Dean's hand upon his cheek was enough to drive him mad. He moaned into the kiss and pressed their bodies closer together. Suddenly, Castiel was senseless; his thoughts were scattered. He almost invoked the names of every deity he could think of as his nerves fired off in the most interesting ways.

But he wasn't the only one enjoying himself, no. The angel made note of the wonderful sounds tumbling past Dean's lips. His trailed his fingertips down to the waistband of his jeans, then down to the pert swell of his ass. Castiel seized this part of Dean with a relish he didn't know he had. To further his point, he took the man's lower lip between his teeth. Heavens.

Dean's lids flickered in surprise as he felt Cas's hand grip his ass. Between breaths and kisses he smirked, amused. He must have been rubbing off on the angel, or something had at least...the petrified man he took to the strip club long ago was gone.

Suddenly he felt teeth gently pulling at his lip, and a groan tumbled from his mouth as chills crept throughout his body. He withdrew from the pleasure suddenly, grinning. "Hey, Cas, whoa. Since when did you get better at this than I am, huh? I thought you were..." Not to be outdone, he pressed the angel against the wall of the confession booth and whispered into his ear, "You know, out of practice."

Castiel blushed furiously. He pulled back a fraction so that he could properly see Dean in the half-light. "Angels are... frequently celibate, Dean," he answered softly. "But I'm not playing by the rules now. That would be... obvious." He let his hand fall away from where it had been perched on the man's backside.

"But you're not, not you," he whispered. Dean's grin reflected onto his face. He reached up to lay his hand on the base of the hunter's neck, where muscle wrapped tightly around bone.

Castiel bit his lip. He rolled his thumb into the tense flesh beneath it, licking his lips as Dean began to respond to his touch. He raised his eyebrows. He could only go by what he could dredge up from Jimmy's memories, and there wasn't much.

But Dean was being helpful. Something coiled up beneath his skin, hot and hungry. He could only watch as the silk of his necktie loosened between the other man's fingertips. His breath hitched in his throat, and his heart pounded insistently against his ribcage. He didn't know what this was. He still couldn't pinpoint the subtleties of human emotion; his mind was telling him a thousand different things at once.

His voice ached as he spoke, voice husky. "Dean," he whispered, "what... what does it feel like to want?" He ached with a feeling he did not know, and feared it was the very thing he spoke of. He blushed.

The corner of Dean's mouth twitched in amusement at Castiel's words. "What, are we in some kinda porno now?" he joked softly. The thought hung in the incensed air of the church, and his mind suddenly blanked, his eyes traveling nervously as the angel pursed his lips and blinked at the floor tiles.

Shaking his head slightly, Dean returned his gaze to Castiel. The blue was like billowing storm clouds ready to swallow him. Always studying his face. He wondered if Cas ever looked at anything else, really. If so, Dean thought he'd rather not know about it at the time as he slipped the angel's tie from his neck. "All joking aside, Cas..." Dean murmured as he watched the silk coil on the tiles. Suddenly there was movement and a scuffling of shoes and flannel against cotton, and no space was left between the hunter and the angel. "I'll show you what it's like to want."

Castiel's expression did not change. His eyes flickered. He looked lost. He felt lost. He ran his tongue over his lips. "This is nothing like pornography, Dean." His voice sounded harsher than it should have. "Is it?" He exhaled and idly straightened the collar of the hunter's plaid shirt. In the process, the angel was rewarded with a glimpse of Dean's perfect collarbone. Castiel wanted to disappear into him, fold himself into those shadows.

How nonsensical. The angel blushed again. He bit his lip, quite aware of Dean's eyes on him. He swallowed as the grip of his necktie disappeared completely. He gasped quietly. The sensation was oddly sensual in a way. But it could not have been more sensual as when Dean pressed his body against Castiel's. The angel's hips jerked just slightly. He wrapped his arms around Dean's waist as if to anchor himself there.

Dean shivered at the angel's arms around his waist, at the lack of space between their bodies. He ducked to the skin under Castiel's ear and kissed it, firm and wet. His hand furiously tugged at his dress shirt until it was untucked; his fingers slipped up against the skin underneath, the buttons giving way under his wrist.

Dean trailed his lips up to the angel's ear. His hot breath whispered raggedly, "Cas...I want you. I'll show you how to do this." He tugged gently at the other man's earlobe, stubble brushing the tip of his nose. "Please. I need you."

Castiel reveled in the rise and fall of Dean's chest against his. He struggled to keep his footing as the man's lips grazed the sensitive spot under his earlobe. "Oh, G-Go-" he swallowed the name abruptly. The remaining air tore up his throat as a moan, soft and quavering. His muscles flexed involuntarily underneath Dean's fingertips.

"Please, Dean," he groaned. "Please." His words were insistent, a chant, a prayer. He shivered; perhaps it was the chill of the air on his skin, or the heat of the man's lips at his ear. "I- yes." He sighed, struggling to hold his eyelids up.

Hearing the gravel in Cas' voice moan for him was too much. Dean's shoulders drooped with pleasure as the angel begged for him. *Dammit...* He managed to think through the whirlwind of memories and sensations running through his head. *Just the sound of his VOICE...*

Dean swallowed. "Okay..." His voice was rough and from the back of his throat. His heart was pounding against his bones. He wondered if Cas's was beating. His jeans strained against his bulge. He wondered if...

He swallowed again, hard, his eyes suddenly flicking from Cas' waist. He licked his lips and watched how the rosy light of the church played across the angel's cheekbones, how it hid in the deep rivulets under his ocean eyes. He must be so tired. Dean knew that all of this must belong to him. "Just do what I do," he growled, his hands falling from Cas' bare chest to the pants hugging his hipbones. He tugged at the zipper.

Castiel felt as if his whole body was reaching, straining for something he couldn't grab. His palms grazed the muscles of Dean's muscled back, the graceful arcs of his shoulder blades. He buried his nose in the man's neck and kissed it ever so softly.

He looked up at the sound of Dean's voice. He hooked a finger beneath Dean's stubbled jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze. His whole body throbbed in his presence. The angel felt the sudden urge to tear his clothes off. His trousers felt uncomfortably tight. Dean obliged him by easing his discomfort.

"Do I just-"

He didn't wait for Dean's reply. Instead, he unhooked the closure on the hunter's jeans. He made fast work of the zipper as well, surprisingly even himself with the sudden deftness of his fingers. He ran his fingernails across the skin beneath Dean's navel.

Dean gasped in surprise as Castiel's nimble fingers grazed the skin under his navel. He buried himself into the angel's neck, biting it gently. "Whoa, Cas..." he started, feeling the fingers flinch and retreat. Dean grabbed his hand, pushing it firmly to his skin. "No, stay. That's good. I was just...surprised." He smirked, raising his face so their noses touched. "You sure you haven't done this before?"

Suddenly, he swiftly but lightly kicked the back of Cas' knee, knocking him off balance. He wrapped his arms tight around the angel's shoulders, careful not to let him fall. His muscles quivering, he lowered themselves to the tile. "You must be pretty used to dudes fallin' on their knees for you." He propped himself over the angel on one arm, the other grazing his chest. "This time I want you on the ground."

Castiel let his fingers just slip beneath the waistband of Dean's cotton boxers. He withdrew them sharply as his body seized from contact with the hunter's teeth. He howled hoarsely, twitching. Catching his breath, the angel replaced his hand and let it dip lower. His calloused fingertips brushed Dean's cock. It seemed hot enough to burn his hand, but he did not jerk away. "I couldn't tell you, Dean," he murmured tenderly, drawing his fingers away.

He did not ask questions when the man lowered him onto the chilly tiles. He looked up at Dean after a time. "I've never..." he trailed off. He rested his palm flat on the bulge in his pants and rubbed it. His nerves answered with a chorus of screams. He looked up at Dean with heavy-lidded eyes. "What do you want me to do, Dean?" He looked lewd; his legs were folded beneath him and his dominant hand was absentmindedly palming his aching erection.

Dean felt like his head was underwater as he watched Cas's hand work around his cock. His teeth clenched together, jaw tight with longing. He couldn't believe the prude little bastard now looked like some sort of sex god splayed out between his legs. He probably didn't even know. His crinkled eyes drilled into Dean's own like diamonds. Dean knew he'd never look at them the same again.

"J-just..." he cleared his throat and tried again. "Just relax. Okay?" His mouth twitched at his own comment; he should be taking his own advice. His hands were trembling, and his heart was thrumming away in his chest. He slowly lowered his head to the angel's collarbones, brushing them with light kisses. He worked his way down past his nipples, grinning at the dark freckle above his right one. As his nose trailed down the concavity of Cas's stomach, he ran his fingers up along the angel's ribs.

Dean studied the man's hipbones, licking them gently. He rested his lips above the man's cock, his hands grazing Cas's thighs. Without moving, he looked up. "You still with me, Cas?"

The angel squeezed his cock roughly through the soft fabric of his underwear. He ground into his palm, stiffening at the touch. What was he doing? He flushed as he noticed his pants had virtually slipped down and away, so that his bulge was fully exposed to Dean. He didn't falter.

"I'll try," was all he could muster. His hands dropped away as Dean assaulted his body with nothing but his lips. He felt utterly defenseless to the man's ministrations. The angel fisted his hand in Dean's hair, urging him on to some unclear goal. He gasped and cried out when breath touched his stomach and what waited below.

Castiel was vaguely aware of the sound of Dean's voice. He was... was he asking consent? He wasn't certain. "Yes," he half-spoke.

Dean's shoulders shuddered as Cas's fingers raked through his hair, and he released a muffled moan into the man's stomach. Then he heard a growl, or a groan, or a sigh, he wasn't quite sure. He was pretty sure that Cas had said "yes," though, and that is what he was going to go with.

"All right," Dean said quietly. "You're doing so good, Cas. I've got you." With that he wrapped a hand around the angel's cock and squeezed gently, testing him. He raised his mouth from the angel's stomach and closed his lips around it, sliding his tongue down the hard length. He opened his eyes briefly to watch Cas's reaction, sucking gently. "More?"

It was as though the world ended when Dean finally touched him. His eyes clenched shut. He dug his fingernails into the fabric of the hunter's shirt. It was agony. The sound of his voice alone could make Castiel come apart right there. But he couldn't. Then he'd be losing out on this... this wonderful... thing.

Angels were things of beauty. They were simply too brilliant to look at. Heaven, too, was a naturally stunning place, filled with equally startling intentions. But angels were sexless. Mercy, they were missing out. The shame and fear that had built up inside of Castiel's chest crumbled as he felt the reassuring touch of Dean's lips again.

He would willingly face a thousand years of damnation for a few moments of this. He struggled to relax as the other man sucked intently on him. "Yes, I..." He failed at words the first time, moaning helplessly instead. His sounds had taken on an almost musical quality as they bounced off the high, vaulted ceilings. A chandelier tinkled above, but neither man paid any mind. "For heaven's sake, Dean, please don't stop. I..."

Dean smirked at the angel's words, or lack of them, perhaps. He felt a surge of pleasure knowing that he could reduce a fearsome soldier of Heaven to a quivering mass beneath him. He wanted more.

Dean took him in one go, his eyes stinging suddenly as he felt the angel's dick ram the back of his throat. He felt Cas shiver under him, watched as his hands clawed at the bare tile. He wrapped his free hand around the trembling fingers, clenching tightly. With his other hand he grasped the man's testicles, his thumb pressing against the skin underneath in short bursts. He did not notice the tiny tinkles of the chandelier high above them because of the blood rushing through his ears.

There were many things Castiel could handle. He could handle immolation, whipping, and possession. He could handle verbal abuse and the rebuke of an angry God. What he could not handle, however, was the impossibly pleasing sensation of Dean Winchester's mouth on his cock.

Whatever he was doing, he was good at it. The angel could sense the desperation as he took him with his lips. The combination of teasing fingers and lascivious slurping was driving him absolutely insane. He wanted so dearly to please Dean like this. He wanted to break him, and then put him back together. Carefully, Castiel grabbed the other man's head and thrust gently into it. He tried vainly to mind Dean's gag reflex.

He let out a loud groan as something began to coil up inside of him. There was a distinct pressure just beneath his tailbone. "D-Dean..." He paused, unsuccessfully swallowing what was almost a shout. "I... something..."

Dean raised himself up before Castiel on his knees, grasping the angel's throbbing cock in his hands. "What is it, Cas?" he said, teasingly. He pumped his hands once, twice, running the tip of his nose up the man's chest. "Tell me," he said again, louder, his gruff voice echoing quietly off the church walls. Well, it was silent. Now it sang with the sounds of labored panting, all at different times and different pitches like dozens of voices whispering.

Dean crushed his lips against Castiel's then, one hand twisting the head of his cock while the other squeezed his length. "Tell me what it's like, Cas!" He growled into the man's neck, this time his voice ringing throughout the nave.

Castiel's mind began to scramble. His mental fortitude had simply toppled. He gasped as Dean removed his mouth from his length with a pop. He looked into the other man's eyes and felt the imminent feeling of flight. That was strange, he couldn't fly here, not in Jimmy Novak's body. And yet Dean was stroking him faster than wings could.

"I don't know, Dean," he gasped, "I don't know." He was surprised to feel hot tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He bucked his hips into the hunter's hand. "It's as if everything is spinning, and I'm... I'm about to explode..." His voice grew small, then. For a time, the only sounds in the chapel were those of skin on skin and Castiel's intermittent, crescendoing moans.

But then Dean upped the ante. He always did, somehow. He pressed their lips together hard, until Castiel was uncertain of where his face began and Dean's ended. And his hands, oh, his hands. Suddenly, his flight was ending. Crash-landing, really. In one spectacular moment, he came. He tensed, the loudest sound of all bursting from him. Above, the stained-glass window depicting Christ's contemplation in the wilderness shattered.

Castiel came, lax and soft against Dean's shoulder. He spoke soft things, small things.

Dean gritted his teeth and arched his back at the piercing volume of Cas's voice. His ears rang, the passion and ecstasy echoing in his head and shaking his bones. He flinched at the sound of the window shattering, then relaxed and gazed down at the panting angel, shimmering shards of gold and rose and purple glass tinkling to the tile.

He watched Cas's full lips murmur, his eyes fluttering closed. Dean's eyes softened; the hunger he felt ebbed to a warmth that was rare for him. He leaned over the angel, pressing his lips to his forehead. His fingers slowly ran through dark hair. "Hey," he whispered, smiling.


End file.
